Almost Historic
by Chavalah-Maresca
Summary: It starts off funny, and it keeps getting darker and darker until the end. So goes the story of Les Amis de l'ABC; "The Group Which Almost Became Historic". This is going to be a rather long fic, and it includes just about everything that one could possib


  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. 

A/N: I know this first chapter is short, however, the fic is going to be rather long, so fear not, mes amis! It will also get a lot more dark as the fic progresses. This chapter was merely setting the scene.

Courfeyrac and the Fugly Purple Jacket

Enjolras was absent from the Café Musain. Where he was, no one was quite sure, but all that mattered was that he was not there, which resulted in the revolutionaries having no guidance. Other that the absence of Enjolras, everything was pretty normal, such as Joly, who was seated beside a window, which he had cracked-open to let some fresh air in, examining his tongue in a shiny silver-plated spoon. 

"No one's tongue has this many bumps on it. I have seen many tongues, and mine is by far, the bumpiest." He stuck out his tongue and leaned over to prove this point to Feuilly,"Thee? I thold you ith was odd looking, no?"

"Put your tongue back in your mouth...no one wants to see that," Feuilly responded before going back to his reading of some book written in Polish.

Meanwhile, Jehan was seated beside Marius, attempting to write yet another poem. "You know," he grumbled to the hypochondriac, "The grotesque talk of your tongue has caused my muse to fly right out that window that you leave open for ventilation! Now I even forgot what I was writing about!"

"Love?" suggested Marius, who was supposed to be studying his history text, but was instead scrawling Cosette's name all over the margin.

"Love," grumbled Grantaire as he took a sip from his bottle of Absinthe, (how the man was able to drink a whole bottle, one would never know), "Love is nothing a mechanism created by the Greeks to explain the loss of control the weak feel when their eyes meet those of a pretty little flower's!" he laughed and peered over at Marius' paper, "_Cosette_. So, this is the lady you have enjoyed mourning about for the past four weeks?"

"Yes, Grantaire," said the boy, closing his book, "And I have not been in mourning, but basquing is the glory that is the heart in love!"

Jehan squealed and quickly scribbled down what Marius had said. Grantaire threw his now empty bottle at Feuilly for no reason other than the fact that he was Feuilly, and bad things tended to happen to him, so of course he was the one the bottle was aimed at.

"SILENCE!" cried Combferre, who had finally chosen to lift his head from his book, "Just because Enjolras is not here, it does not mean that we must exemplify complete and utter anarchy!"

"Is anarchy not the very reason we have all congegated here in the first place?" Grantaire inquired as he popped the cork to a bottle of Zinfindel.

"You would think so, Grantaire, wouldn't you?" Combferre groaned, his eyes becoming alive with the fire that only shown when he was about to make a speech, "That is why it always confuses me as to why you hang around with us. I know that you idolise Enjolras, but in order to truelly idolise someone, you must understand exactly what they stand for! We Amis de l'ABC are here not for anarchy, but to create a new form of government in which everyone is treated as equal..."

The drunk cut him off, "Your Utopian ideas are all fine and dandy, until you realise that as humans, we must always try and one-up each other. Take Athens..."

The students were saved from Grantaire's speech, however, when the door to the café was flung open to reveal a very pretty young man, who was dressed in an extremely gaudy purple jacket, a black top hat, brown pants, and an orange tie.

"Good lord, Courfeyrac," smirked Marius, "What are you wearing?"

"It's purple velvet, and it's in fashion!" he quipped, as he made his was over to the table at which Grantaire was seated, and plopped down across from him. Grantaire looked-up from his drink, took one look at Courfeyrac, and fell backwards out of his chair.

"Fashion or not! That is the ugliest thing I've ever seen!" said he, as he slowly stood back up.

"Pah! What would an ugly drunkard such as yourself know about fashion when he wears the same vomit-covered jacket every day!"

Now, most people would consider what Courfeyrac has said to be extremely mean. However, nobody ever cared to defend Grantaire, so his comment was actually laughed at, which resulted in Grantaire throwing the bottle of Zinfindel against the wall.

"Cour," said Marius, getting up from where he was seated and walking over to his roommate, "I apologise, but I think that we all agree the coat should be burned in order to keep us all from going blind."

"Now, now," injected Jehan, who had actually stopped writing for a moment, "I actually think the coat looks darling on him."

Courfeyrac blushed slightly at Jehan's comment, "Why..why thank you, Jehan. I have a lime green coat just like this one, if you would like to borrow it sometime. I think it would look excellent on you!"

Again, Jehan squeaked. He had always thought Courfeyrac to be rather pretty, and everyone knew that when Jehan fancied someone, he fell head over heels and was willing to do anything to please the other. But the purple jacket was ugly enough...he could only imagine how very disgusting the same jacket would be in lime green of all colours! However, if it made Courfeyrac happy.... 

"I would love to borrow it!"

Everyone just turned around and looked at the poor boy, wondering what in the world had come over him.

Courfeyrac clapped happily, "And Marius!"

"No!"

"You shall wear periwinkle!"

Marius' eyes widened, and, without even bothering to grab his book, he stood-up and darted out of the café.


End file.
